Double Chocolate Chip Cookie Delight
by Virginia Cartwright
Summary: Miss Rose wakes up after a crazy night in Mister Someone's bedroom. No yaoi.
1. First Impressions

Chapter 1

There I sat in the dingy, dim lit bar at 3:23 a.m., sipping on some sort of mix of alcoholic beverages that was probably laced with some sort of club drug. I knew that I was already way drunk, and I mean _way_ drunk. The world was spinning at an unhealthy speed before my eyes, and I was about to fall out my stool from the dizziness. My long platinum blond hair was falling down my back and almost touching the ground as I slouched, and I noticed a few concerned looks from the bartender and a few other late night drinkers. I gave them a wild grin, and said something profane I don't even remember.

Next thing I knew I had been kicked out and was sitting on the sidewalk singing a slurred song to myself. I must have looked pretty dang crazy, green eyes glowing with an alcohol induced flame and wearing not much other than a tight purple plastic belly shirt and a white mini skirt that showed my lack of underwear when I leaned down. My pale skin was probably a map of my night, and my makeup was most likely running in places. Anyone who saw me would automatically think I was a prostitute.

My day had been absolutely horrid, 'rents giving me the boot, then I found out my boyfriend had been cheating on me, and my goldfish had died. Ugh. As a treat, I'd bought myself a fake ID from a guy in my class who I had heard made the best in the city. After that I'd gone out and found the only bar I knew had horrid security, all my friends used it as their hot spot for quick shots. I was a "good girl" so I never went there, never bought whore-ish clothes, never used fake IDs, etc. But I hadn't been a good girl for about eight and a half hours, so I guess God had me on the list of sinners by now.

I guess I got what I deserved.

At sometime around four a.m. a sleek, black sports car pulled up beside me as continued my breathless and slurred song. A door raised by itself, and the person inside was covered by shadows. Whoever it was told me to get inside, and without my common sense about me I did. Shit. I'd been picked up like a whore. Well, this'd be something to not mention to my husband, if I ever got one. All I could tell about the person was that they were male and had long hair. He smelled like…leather? Hmm, something else to mull over at a later date.

The last thing I remembered is hearing him talking on the phone, and then swaying and tripping my way up to a hidden doorway in an alleyway. As I noted earlier, I was in need of a little brain refresher at this point. If I'm correct, I made my way, the man leading me, to a small bedroom before my body went on automatic and my mind conked out.


	2. Waking Up in Wonderland

Chapter 2

I woke up the next day the sorest I think I've ever been. _Mental note, don't get too drunk in one night. _I was thankful for the comfy and fluffy covers and the warm body I was snuggling against-wait…what!? I opened my emerald green eyes and had to keep myself from screaming in shock. I was cuddling up nude with some guy I didn't even know! His arms were loosely around me, but I was afraid moving at all would wake him. He had yellowish blond hair, and a scar covering the left half of his face and part of his shoulder. Despite a certain wild beauty about him, he looked somewhat cruel, like a child who was spoiled and then had everything stripped away. In a way...he scared me.

He groaned and rolled over a bit, taking his right arm off of me and throwing it slightly over the edge of the clean white bed. I took the opportunity to scoot away carefully, eyeing the gun on the bedside table as if it would shoot me itself for moving. I searched the room for my clothes once I got out of the bed. My head was pounding and I didn't need to know why. I had just found them when I looked over to see the gun pointed at me. The boy raised his head and opened his eyes slowly; they were an amazing shade of teal blue. I backed into a corner carefully, holding my head low so as much of me was covered as possible by my hair. I gave an animal snarl and he grinned playfully, like a cat playing with its mouse.

"I see you've woken up." Well that could have been a little more obvious.

"Damn right I have! Now, who are you, and why am I here?!" I growled.

"I believe _I'm_ the one with the gun. Mind telling me your name? Although, I could just let you go, I like to have at least a proper good-bye down." He told me, still smiling and pointing the gun at me.

"My name is…Rose Merriwether." I quickly lied, "I'm 17 years old."

"Well, then. I picked up quite a young lady, didn't I?" He said, laying down and twisting his head so that I saw it upside down. He lay the gun down as well, and grabbed a bar of chocolate, which he tore the wrapper off of with his teeth. He then licked the bar before snapping off a square and letting it melt inside his mouth. "My name is Mello, also 17. Pleased to meet you."

I stared in shock at him. He was…17 too? He seemed older, simply because he had basically kidnapped and had sex me, and then threatened me with a gun. Not to mention he just had the aura of someone who'd seen a lot more than the average American teenager. "I wish that I could say I was glad to meet you as well, but under these circumstances, I believe I would be glad if you were shot through the head." I told him and picked up my clothes. My purple top had been ripped; amazing considering it was made of cheap plastic. My skirt also looked like it was in no hurry to be worn again, the zipper had been busted and it was covered in dirt. Oh god, I what the hell had I done?

"I'll get you some new clothes." Mello told me, a smile still licking up from the corners of his lips as the snapped off more chocolate. He rose slowly, like a mannequin being raised from its neck. He walked over to a black dresser pressed against one of the brown walls, not seeming to care that he, too, was naked. Mello pulled out some tight looking leather pants and a leather vest from the top drawer, some masculine underwear, feminine underwear and a lacy pink bra from the second drawer, and a pair of jeans and a tight short sleeve t-shirt from the third drawer. He then tossed the un-ripped clothing onto the bed.

I snatched the bra, panties, jeans and the tee from the bed and pulled them on quickly. Oh, it felt so good to have clothes on again! It felt like the hazy morning spell had broken and I could finally be awake. I combed through my hair with my fingers and tried not to notice Mello pulling on the leather clothes he had gotten out minutes earlier.

"I guess that you would be opposed to giving me where you live so I could drive you home, Miss Rose?" Mello said in a way that was more an almost sarcastic statement than question.

"Damn right I won't!" I said, voice wavering, and made my way over to the door. Before I could grab the handle though, I heard a clicking noise and I turned to see Mello lying on the bed with the gun in his hand. How he had gotten there so fast, I didn't know, and didn't want to.

"I'm sorry, but I can't just let you leave. You might tell _them _where we are." He said calmly and somewhat playfully. Who it was he was talking about, I wasn't sure. I had a sickening feeling in my gut that told me he might be talking about the police.

"I won't tell…_them_ where you are. Now let me get the hell out of here!" I lied as my voice started breaking up. My life had seriously gone down the drain. I was standing in a stranger's bed room most likely, where I had woken up after probably having consented sex. I had been super drunk, and I wouldn't put it past the bar I had been at to have laced my drinks and drugged me. My parents were already mad at me, so I couldn't go home, and even if I could, how would I tell them? What would I tell them? My ex-boyfriend was not an option; I was still way pissed at him. I didn't even have my phone with me, so I couldn't call any of my friends, who were out of town for summer by now.

"Maybe this is a bad time to tell you, but I cannot trust you, Rose. I don't even know your real name. You were probably lying just now as well." Mello said, his teal blue eyes piercing my own emerald green ones. He snapped off more chocolate, as he had been holding the bar in his mouth the entire time.

_How did he know I was lying?_ I wondered to myself worriedly. _Who is this creep?_ I suddenly broke down crying, for my world had been shattered. I fell onto the soft, carpeted floor and sobbed in huge heaves.

"I swear it's just like me to pick up a total fresh." Mello sighed, and snapped off more chocolate.

"I'm not a fucking whore!" I struggled to yell through my tears as I sat facing the wall, my legs pulled to me in a fetal position.

"Well then why the hell were you lying on the sidewalk next to the goddamn highway, drunk as hell, in fucking ho-clothes, singing to yourself about the beauty of the goddamn internet?" Mello asked in a demanding tone.

"I-I had a…really bad day." I mumbled between sobs.

"And what made this particular day so horrid that you decided to go and fuck up your life?" He asked, snapping off more chocolate.

"It's a long story. Now leave me alone!" I yelled at him.

"I've got time." He said calmly. I heard him set the gun on the table and walk over. Very faintly, I felt warmth coming from behind me, and he said softly, "Begin at the beginning, and then tell on until you come to the end, then stop."


	3. Willy Wonka meets Cooking Mama

Chapter 3

Two days later, and I was still trapped in this horrid hell.

I had gained a few, small rights, such as meeting a few of Mello's…friends. And I called my mother to tell her I had, "ran away", because she didn't love me anymore. I knew that wasn't true, but I was still not allowed to leave, for fear I'd take the police to wherever I was. Watching TV was another right I had now, and watching it one day I found out that the police were on a search for me. Since I'm a bad liar, they figured my phone call was a fake, which it was, although my mother and father denied it and told everyone it was their entire fault. Seeing them like that was killing me from the inside out. I cried a lot, and my eyes were stinging and itching constantly.

Mello was always around for me to ask questions, in case I needed to, and he taught me daily lessons like a tutor. One of the main differences between him and a tutor: Mello had a gun, and although he was truly sympathetic about bringing me into this mess (even though it was really my fault), I knew that if I did something that broke any rule he wouldn't hesitate to shoot. I was forced to take classes from him, even though I still hated him. I must admit, I learned a lot faster with him than I did any teacher I'd had before, and the knowledge seemed to stick instead of flitting away like a butterfly when I tried to capture it.

Another perk of being trapped in what apparently was some sort of secret head quarters for illegal activity with a bunch of really strong and tough-looking dudes: I never ran out of clothes, or ice cream. Nobody was picky about what I ate, since I never gained a pound, and as long as it was low cut or super short, it was in Mello's dresser. I don't know how he ended up with all those girly clothes, perhaps he bought them in advance for his concubines, knowing their clothes would be ripped to shreds? Perhaps they were the un-ripped clothes of the prostitutes who didn't last, shot as they tried to run? No, then there would be bullet holes…or blood…right? Unless they were shot through the head, then fell down and were stripped of their clothes before they bled on them, or they were nude when killed, or…never mind. I don't feel like listing all the ways a prostitute can be shot and killed without bleeding on their apparel. Either way, Mello always had plenty of clothes for me to wear, and there was always black raspberry chip ice cream in the fridge.

I smiled as I sat on a leather couch in what seemed to be a bar, and was sort of a living room for the people living here. I had met most of the men, and the few that were married I'd met the wives of. Most of the wives were hateful and rude, having affairs left and right with men outside of the building I was confined to. But there were two that had become good friends to me, although they were probably about 10 years older than me. One of them was sitting on my left, her name was Alice, and Mello was on my right. Alice and I were watching some old movie in Italian, and Mello was talking on his brand-new Mobiado Professional mechanical watch phone in 105GMT gold.

Alice turned to me and asked, "What did the man in the suit just say?" We both spoke Italian, but I was a bit more fluent than her.

"Amo ciò che non può avere. I love what I can't have." I told her, my accent pretty good for a big-city American.

"Oh, okay. Thank you, Rose." She told me. Everybody called me Rose, and I was able to respond to it quickly enough that no one but Mello knew it was an alias. He didn't know my real name though, I refused to tell him. He got really worked up and angry when I wouldn't tell him, but he didn't hurt me, luckily enough.

One of the most commonly seen men in the room walked in shortly after Alice and I finished the movie, and sat down next to Mello. His name was Matt, and he always had a cigarette hanging out one side of his mouth, goggles on face, some sort of striped shirt and usually was pressing buttons of the most recent handheld gaming system. At the time he was playing "Cooking Mama" for the Nintendo DS, a fun game, but he made a big mistake by sitting next Mello while playing it. The volume was on max and it seemed out of nowhere the DS went, "BEDDER ZHAN MAH-MAH!" The second it sounded Mello had dropped his brand new phone and was pinning Matt to the floor. Faster than I could make a sound, Matt's goggles had been pushed up to his hair and Mello had pulled a knife from who knows where. It was painfully obvious that Mello was about to slit Matt's throat with the knife and it no one could stop him.

Faster than I could have realized what was happening, Matt yelled, "WILLY WONKA!!!" Suddenly Mello rolled to the side limply, and Matt got up off the ground. Vaguely, I realized I was the only one shocked by this chain of events. I was sitting there with my mouth hanging wide open, staring at the reddish-brunette who was straightening his goggles. He smiled at me and gave a slight wave. Matt then picked up Mello and tossed him over his shoulder like my parents used to do when I refused to go to bed. Strangely enough Mello stayed limp, and unmoving, as Matt carried him out of the room. Perhaps the word had some sort of power over him? I'd ask Matt later, in my position it might be useful.

Alice broke my trance, when she asked what I was staring at.

"Is that…normal?" I asked back, a worried look across my face.

"Oh, yeah, that happens about…twice a week maybe? Mello just has really short and tart nerves, and wicked fast reflexes. But don't worry! Matt's been through worse accidents, and Mello's never hurt him _too_ bad." Alice responded in a sweet and reassuring tone. God, Alice was so nice all the time! She was so pretty, too! She was mostly Japanese, and had brownish-reddish-orange-ish hair that was a few inches below shoulder length. Today she was wearing a lemony colored sundress and a mini sweater in the same shade. She was kind of little, and really skinny. Somehow she always knew just how to calm me down.

"Wow, that's…wow." Was all I could get to come out of my mouth. Surprises were around every corner here! I had a feeling if I stayed much longer, I'd get sick from my head spinning. I smiled and told Alice I was going to be in Mello's room, which I was staying in until it was decided where I'd stay.

As I walked down the crummy looking halls in the building, I thought about my relationships with the people I basically would be living with. I might be held here for the rest of my days and nights. I felt hot tears beginning to stream down my face once again. They were like friends themselves now, something I could always depend on to fall out of my green eyes, slip over my thick lashes, and then roll down my pale skin. My eyes began to sting again, a pain that still felt so damn good. I hunched myself down against a wall, next to some door. My tears started to turn red as the salt in them wore away at the skin of my eyelids, making me bleed. I felt so wretched, my life turned to trash before my eyes, and yet just a few minutes ago I had been watching movies in Italian with a new friend.

I looked up and was terribly surprised to see Matt standing against the wall across from the one I'd been sitting against. Had I not realized that the door I was sitting next to led to his room? Had he come out and I not noticed him? He came over and sat beside me against the wall, legs stretched out beneath him. He pulled out a pack of cigs and handed me one. I'd never smoked before; did he expect me to know how? He pulled out another for himself, and smiled at me. Denying the pain in my eyes and around them, I followed his actions, learning slowly how to inhale and exhale the smoke correctly. I guess I'd made a friend of sorts. Sure, he odd friend who taught me to smoke, and played video games constantly. One who wore goggles to hide his eyes and wore stripes at all times. But it didn't matter. We were something more than acquaintances, but less than something binding. We were friends.


	4. Masochostic Mail and author babble

Chapter 4

[Matt's point of view]

Phew. That new bitch Mello's hanging with isn't his usual type. She's got a 10% chance of living through this. I've known so many with less than one.

I guess I ought to explain my actions over the past few hours. Let's begin with teaching the Rose to be dirty. Nature's not always clean, is it? So that means even flower's petals wither. Hers probably started shriveling the moment she took a sip of vodka. I guess Mello did his share in this part, picking her up and all the crap that started this. But I feel that I made a decent effort and got my two cents in. Teaching someone to smoke their first cigarette is quite an interesting thing. I still remember my first, even after all these years. I can still remember having my father hold up a little clear-blue lighter to the cigarette in my mouth. I was seven years old.

My father was my sanity. He hit me sometimes; I couldn't tell you how many broken bones that man had given me. But it brought me back to the cold, hard, painful reality of earth. I did bad things just to _be _hit by him. I wanted the approval that I'd done something, bad or good didn't matter. If I had done anything, I'd be beaten like a dog, and then my world would seem to become horridly real. I loved the scary feeling of everything around me truly being there.

But one day things went too far.

I was being me, doing something to offend someone so that my father would smack me like usual. I went down the street on Sunday, looking for something to do, when I came across a farmer's market. When I thought that I had some cover, but not enough to truly hide me, I grabbed a canvas and ran with it. Sadly I didn't anticipate the woman selling the art attempting to chase me. I figured, my intelligence shining at this moment, that if she caught me, I'd be beaten worse! And so I slowed down my breakneck pace, to a speed that she could catch me at. I was running in the direction to my home, so I led her on a bit farther, and then faded as she caught up only a few houses away from the little one I lived in with my mother, father, and sister. She grabbed me by the collar, choking me.

"Where d'you live, little boy?" She yelled at me, her hot and smelly breath making me want to shout.

"Just up there, miss." I told her, putting on the face of a young child stripped of innocence.

She then marched me up to my home and rang the doorbell. I was so exited! My father came out, drunk as hell.

"The hell'd my boy do to you, bitch?" He asked, slurring harshly.

She told him the story, and had to keep myself from smiling hugely and dropping the canvas I was still carrying. That's when things took a different turn. Apparently fed up with me in his drunken state, he pulled out a knife and started to stumble toward me. I wanted to scream, but with pure pleasure as he sliced across my arms and chest. The woman was looking at him, as if she were afraid for herself. She ran away as I had to keep myself under such control. It was so hard to keep myself from admitting my rapture, but id I did he'd stop. We were there in our front yard, me loving every moment of pain, as my father slashed at me. I kept up an act, dodging every now and then, and running around a bit at a slow pace. Oh god, it felt so damn good! The world was coming back to me, everything becoming realer than I could have hoped for.

But my father made a mistake as he mutilated me, one that caused me a hell of a lot of trouble. He tripped over a pebble, resulting in him falling on top of me. His bottle of beer smashed on the sidewalk, and the knife he held was driven into my eyeball.

If you think you know pain, think twice.

Even masochistic little Mail couldn't stand this. The knife felt like ice, cold against the heat of the summer. I was screaming now, although my ecstasy had left. I realized behind my thoughts of pain that it wasn't reality I was seeing, but some sort of twisted fantasy where my life was what my father wanted it to be. Pain was pain, and pain couldn't stop it. I was seizuring manically on the ground, unable to stop what I felt. It felt like an eternity I lay on the ground, bleeding like crazy, not even bothering to cry. Before I passed out, I dimly remember an ambulance pulling up.

Have you ever wondered why I where long sleeved striped shirts? It's to cover my scars. And the goggles I wear? They're there to hide the fact that I had an eye transplant in my left eye.

I was pulled in by a local orphanage, thanks to the work of some great adults. Shortly after that was over, I began to play video games. The fantasy worlds and amazing adventures they featured were my sanctuary. Since my reality of pain had been crushed, I needed something to hold on to. Video games and cigarettes seemed to be my only comforts. Cigarettes reminded me of my father, of my past. Video games constantly kept me moving forward, telling me I could be a hero too.

I guess I lost track of what I was talking about… I'll save it for another time. Another story to be told.

---

Author Notes: _Shit. This chapter seriously gave me some fucking nightmares. The more I read it, the more sickening it is. Ugh. I swear I just can't look at Matt the same way ever again._

_Anyway, I figured chapter four would be a good time to put down some little notes to entertain you people who are twisted enough to actually read this. I chose chapter four because my second favorite number is two and two times two is four. No, really I only just thought about putting these notes in as I was about to upload this chapter and was like, "What the hell, might as well let 'em know that I'm not as sick as I seem after this all." _

_Story of my life._

_I guess now that I'm proving that I'm not really Tsugumi Obha and Takeshi Obata [please let me have spelled their names right…], I should add that I don't own an part of Death Note. They do. I fear writing who "They" are, for I might spell their names wrong again. I'm quite sure I did the first time. I'd correct myself, but I have no idea how to spell their names for sure so I'd most likely spell them wrong again._

_Hmm, now on to my notes about what's happening in the story itself. If you're wondering why I'm calling Miss Rose Miss Rose when I've already stated it's an alias, it's because I simply haven't thought of a name for her. [Sighs] My friend had a long rant about that. I had no idea I'd go beyond the first or second chapter in this story, so I never much worried about her name. Now I'm freaking out. I've always written by just grabbing paper or a computer and then it always just comes out. No joke. So when I started writing beyond the first or second chapter I realized I had no storyline to follow and didn't even know my main character's name [sweat drop]. I think I'll save it for the end, a little something to make you read for._

_And now for notes specifically on this chapter. Masochistic mutilated little Matty-Mail-Jeevas. Hmm, has a nice ring to it, ne? Well, originally I wanted this chapter to talk about Rose and her role around this old building the American Mafia family Mello's with is staying in. I ate too much sugar and it took a different turn. That's what I get for having ideas. I'm sad to say that I don't know much of anything about the Sicilian or American Mafias, getting drunk, having sex, being mutilated, waking up in a stranger's bed, or being held at gunpoint. Seeing as I'm only thirteen years of age, I'd say that's a good thing, too. I guess I felt that Matt needed some history, not just, "There's some new bitch hanging with us. Lololololol." I needed more meat than they gave us in the manga and anime. Odd, considering as of today I'm going to be vegetarian. _

_Well, I must say that last paragraph was as off-topic as this chapter. I'd like to give large trophies and heavy medals or shiny awards to a few people, but sadly I can't. Two reasons: One, I'm broke. Two, It's the internet and there's no damn way I'm getting any of the aforementioned through the computer screen to you. I guess you'll have to settle for some small "thank you" s and a tad of recognition._

_Sakura1243: Thank you for proof-reading these chapters through e-mail, I made so many mistakes in chapter two I felt like ripping my own head off. You're a great friend, and thank you for helping your dear Matt through his masochism. Now that they're with me for the week he's having some great fun. If you're not sakura1243 and you just read this and can't make any sense of it whatsoever… [Jedi mind trick] You saw nothing…_

_Smexychocoholic: Thank you oh-so-much for reviewing my story! It means a lot to me that anyone bothers to read anything I write. I've read at least one story by you and must say that it was wonderful. Although, I completely flipped out when I realized my father was standing behind me and might have been reading it as well…he hasn't mentioned it so I hope I don't die.[I'm praying with the combined force of a thousand Mellos and at least one Jesus, who cares if I'm religious or not. I have a feeling I mixed up religions there…shit…]_

_I wish I could give you each on eighteenth of the world, for the rest is surely mine, but I can't because I'm not really Hitler and I don't actually own any of the world. I'm sorry. I'm also sorry that these ANs are probably going to end up longer than the entire chapter. But, who cares, there has to be some sort of Brightside before next chapter._

_Speaking of next chapter, I absolutely refuse to put it up until I get two more people to review! Two because it's my second favorite number and asking for four more people is probably two too much and you'll forget this story exists! That would definitely not be good, for it would make me unhappy, and considering I have the mental stability of BB, that would probably make you very unhappy as well. I'm quite sure you would like to read chapter four as well, for who wouldn't like to read about Mello's childhood? I swear the first two things that come to mind when I think, "Mello's childhood", are "Rape" and "Child molesters". You know it'll be good when it contains those pretty words._

_Anyways, I've been writing these for about an hour –save the breaks to pop/crack my fingers/knuckles/anything else that's it's possible to pop/crack and the one trip to the bathroom- and although I'm on a roll, it's almost two in the morning. If my parents were to come in I'd be screwed. And these notes are almost an entire thousand words too! I sure hope you've enjoyed them. So many random things keep popping into my head that I want to write about! I'm going to have to devote an entire chapter to notes at some point…_

_As a final stand, please review this story. If you were paying any attention at all earlier, you hopefully noticed how much it means to me. I love you all very much! Goodnight! Oyasuminasai! [insert "good night" in every language known to mankind here]!_

_Also, I don't know Italian. I know Japanese. If I screw up the Italian, please alert me and I'll have a serious talk with my Google translator thing! Uh… If I screw up any Japanese let me know about that too. _


	5. Mello's Rosemary and author babble

_Chapter 5_

_[Mello's Point of view]_

"_Mihael, it's time for lunch!" I heard my mother yell up the narrow and steep stairs of our tiny home. Only my father, mother and I lived there. I came down the stairs running, hurrying towards soup that was probably cold. _

"_I'm coming, mother." I said in return as I rounded the corner from the stairs to the living room. I'm not sure it could be called a "living" room though; my father was stretched out in a recliner with a beer can in one hand and a gun in the other. I cringed at the sight of that horrid man and ran into the kitchen where a TV tray and a fold up chair had been set in a corner for me. There was a bowl of soup on top of the tray and as I sat down in the chair I saw the cold noodles were already beginning to bloat themselves with the water they were in. I prayed silently to the lord, in thanks for my food and for my mother. _

_As I prayed I heard my mother being yelled at by my father, something about how much he hated her and how he hated her cooking and really everything about her. I could picture it in my mind as I prayed for her protection. He would be sitting in his chair in the tiny room littered with beer bottles, and she would be standing across from him, on the verge of tears, whimpering softly to herself. He'd be pointing the pistol to her and considering shooting her. But he'd lower the gun as he remembered the one thing she could give him, sex. She didn't like it, didn't want it, but couldn't protest. I continued my praying, whispering what I was saying now. My poor mother, with her long, soft, brown hair, and her now dull brown eyes, her quiet voice not enough to stop my father from raping her. I liked to imagine that her eyes sparkled once, or that she and I were happy. It felt so strange to want someone else to be happy, and I mean really _want_ them to be happy. I prayed louder now, saying the words aloud. I prayed for her to be happy and safe and far away from my asshole of an excuse for a father._

I had to keep myself from screaming as I awoke from the dream that had been haunting me the past few weeks. No, it wasn't really a dream. It was a remembrance of my past, the one that I couldn't talk to anyone about, except for Matt. I shuddered as I thought of the rape and molestation that had robbed me of innocence before I could understand what was happening around me. It was a scary thing, remembering what happened to me. All the things they'd done to me… I _can_ remember, and seeing as I'm already talking about my past, I might as well elaborate.

My father was a terrible person, for lack of a better adjective. He was absolutely the worst person I could think of. He had greasy, receding hair in short blackish-grayish-brown tufts on his scalp, and he rarely shaved, leaving a crop of uneven stubble across the bottom of his face. He hadn't a single pinch of regret in his hard, cold, unfeeling blue eyes. Usually I'd say that blue eyes are beautiful, just as green ones or brown, like my mother's are. But when I see blue eyes I think of my father and I can't seem to think of anything but running away, or possibly putting a bullet through someone's head. It saddens me that I have the same bright blue eyes as him. It frightens me might be a better word, or maybe angers me. I can't be sure, because it feels like all three. Every time I look in a mirror I see my father and my childhood. I see myself and my mother brought to men's clubs to be sold to men. I see how they couldn't tell, or at least didn't care, that I was a small boy through their drunken gaze. Ugh. For years, that was my life, and I knew no better than to be helpless. I was powerless against the man who had brought about my existence.

And then there was my mother. To this day I think of her when I think of the Virgin Mary. She was sweet, and beautiful. She had soft brown eyes, the color of chocolate milk, and long brown hair of the same shade. Her eyes dulled over the years, and when I asked why she'd always dismiss my thoughts. I think it had to do with me. My poor mother, she lived the hardest life out of the three of us. Continually raped and beaten… one time my father even shot her…and then seeing her precious son living a life that wasn't exactly normal. She wanted the best for me, and it ended up killing her.

Let's fast forward, back to waking up. I look to my side, and see Rose lying on my bed next to me. She's breathing so softly that I can barely hear her. Clothing her are a pair of green and white plaid pj pants and a tight blue pajama shirt with a teddy bear printed to the side. Rose is in such a predicament…and it's all my fault too… I'm ripping my hair out over this. She sighs and curls into a ball, scooting her warm body closer to me in the process. I want to curl up with her, snuggle closer until we breathe the same recycled air. Somehow I guess I still have human needs, and not just Mello needs.

A list of some of my "Mello" needs would include sex, chocolate, power, leather, and some sort of whore at my side. I guess you can't call me a normal seventeen year old. No, you never could call me any form of normal. I'm a part of the Mafia, and was a Wammy Orphan. Yes, I was one of the children raised at the famous orphanage that bred L's successors. Matt, Near and I all were raised there. I was second in line to succeed L, and Matt was third. Near was first. The most dominant need I have is to be on top. I always have to be number one, the best of everything. Near is always in the way of my Mello needs. Everything he does prevents me from grasping control of myself.

Rose begins to open her eyes slightly and I quickly hide the fact that I had been watching her sleep by jamming a bar of chocolate into my mouth and closing my eyes. I open one just enough to not be caught, and watch her as she looks at me. She seems to glow in the dark of my bedroom. I turn away from her, not understanding why my face feels warm, like a fever. I feel her fall asleep, and bite into the chocolate without using anything but my teeth. I wrap my arms around myself and curl into a ball, confusion clouding my mind.

---

_Author Babble: _

_AAAAHHHHH!!!!! I'm sosososo sorry it took so long for me to do this chapter! It sucked too! I promise I'll do another Mello chapter in the future! Don't hurt me, Lemurs! In all, this chapter was a little shit. : I wanted it to be awesome, but I've told you before how things work out when I have an idea of what I want to write. _

_I've had some extreme writer's block lately, and nothing to do with Mello has been working out recently. Instead I've been drawing a half-nude Matt, BB getting high off jam, and all the OCs from an RP I'm doing. A lot of Near has been drawn as well… Odd, considering I can't stand the bugger. I've also been trying to write the childhood of Sumi, my OC. She's a total ninja, but has serious mental issues. :D_

_Anyways, dumb chapter. I hate it. I hate it more than I hate life, and that's saying something. At least you get a feeling of how Mello thinks of Rose. I still haven't named her. Please suggest a name to me through a review or message if you would like to give her a name. _

_I'm thinking of giving you guys a wee surprise in a chapter or two. It's something I've debated since I started. Really, I started the story with it as the main event. I'm having second thoughts though, for if I give you guys this amazing, wonderful, super-awesome surprise, then Matt and Mello have to die. I have an ending planned if that's what you guys want, but if not then I'm gonna be lost and confused and possibly screw up. There is an 87% chance that Matt and Mello would live if I didn't introduce the surprise though. Please tell me if you want the surprise though!!! It all depends on you guys._

_Another important announcement: I am moving! For the first time in nine years I'm moving. I've lived in various houses because my parents are divorced, but one of my parents has always lived in this house. Currently my mom, brother, my mom's fiancé and I all live in this wee little house. Well, I have a third brother on the way, and we need more space. So, my mother has been looking for a house. We finally found the perfect one and in a day or two we're closing the deal. I'm so excited! :DDDD_

_Alright, review please! Bye~!_

_[Love Sumi]_


	6. That Really Boring Chapter That You Hate

Chapter 6

I awoke to an empty bed, something I had grown unused to in the past week. I rose upwards, stretching my sleep-stiffened muscles. Upon further inspection, I found that the bed was not empty, just of living things. I found a piece of paper underneath Mello's pillow. He was out doing something stupid again. I sighed; this was all getting far too comfortable. In just a week I had become a regular resident of the building, people greeted me and I greeted them, I had a normal chore, everyone was a friend or enemy. I pulled myself out of the fluffy bed, and went over to the dresser to pull on some sort of whorish outfit. Pulling open the top drawer, I grabbed undergarments, stripped down, then pulled on the new garb. I shut the open drawer then reached down to the bottom one. I pulled out a pair of dark purple skinny jeans and a black tube top. A bit dark for my taste, but that didn't matter right now. I pulled my long blond hair back, and then applied my usual make-up. I walked out into the main living room type area, the one with the big leather couch, TV, and usually Matt, and sat down. Glancing around the room, Matt wasn't there. Neither was Alice, or anyone important, really. I did see Mirandel in the back, along with a few other guys I recognized. They seemed to be creating a plan of some sort. Most of the guys, including Mirandel, were enemies of mine, so I wasn't just gonna sit around waiting for them to kill me. I stood up to leave, and began walking towards the door to the hallway.

I was reaching out to the handle, when one of the men walked over and jumped in my way. I felt myself being surrounded by the group of men; I was scared and confused by this action. They would of course never do this if Matt, Mello, or any of my other good friends were here. Maybe that's why they did it. I refused to show my emotions, and instead asked with a steady voice, "Won't you please let me through?"

"I'm sorry Miss, but we need you for a little experiment." I heard Mirandel say in a playful tone. "I've always wondered what the boss would say if one of his bitches was dead when he came home. Usually he's the one killing them."

I sucked in a sharp breath. So Mello… I shoved the thoughts out of my mind and turned around to face Mirandel. He was grinning like the devil, his long, thin, brown-blonde dreds hanging around a pair of red headphones. And I mean headphones. Not those stupid little ear buds, but real Panasonic RP-HTX7s. His skin was mocha brown, and he had on a tan business suit. He was leaning down to eye level, because he was about a foot taller than me. Most girls would go crazy for him, but I knew better. He was a known drug dealer, and had an unpleasantly large set of torturing devices hidden in various places. I shuddered quickly at the thought, and immediately knew he had seen. I was grabbed from behind, and my mouth was covered as I began an attempt to scream. I kicked out at Mirandel, but missed. No one else was around, and I was scared out of my wits. I felt a quick blow to my head, before everything went black.

When I woke up, I was lying in Mello's bed again, and it was early morning. I looked around, and Mello himself was laid out beside me as usual. I checked my body quickly for any injuries, and found nothing but a tiny x cut into my wrist. I was in the pajamas I normally wore, and my hair was no longer pulled back. I wondered to myself if it were just a nightmare.

"Oh, I see you're awake. What the hell were you thinking?" I heard a familiar voice ask in a calm, but stern tone. I looked over to see Mello, still lying down, his eyes wide open. His face was straight, but in his eyes I could see a hint of worry.

"What do you mean? I got up as you've had me do the past week and went to go see if Alice was around. I was minding my own business and Mirandel had a bunch of guys surround me! The last thing I remember is being knocked out by one of those bastards!" I said angrily. I stood up out of the bed and went into the attached bathroom; I needed to wake up still. I gasped in shock, horror, and utter surprise as I saw my own body in the mirror. There were black circles around both my eyes, various other large bruises and cuts, and dried blood caked to my pale skin. "How the-"

I turned around to look at Mello, and saw his gun resting in one of his hands. His other hand held a bar of chocolate, which he was currently snapping and eating. "I _asked,__** politely**__, __WHAT__. __THE HELL__. __WERE YOU__. __**THINKING**__._"

"I…" I was at a loss for words. There was no explanation in my mind, nothing to pull from. "I don't…"

"Yes, you do know. You actually left the damn room! I wrote in my note to stay in here! I told you that someone was out to get you!" He yelled, gripping his hair in a frustrated way.

"Y-you… did?"I looked at the blonde, confused. He had to be joking, right?

"_Someone needs to do work around here, and I guess that'll have to be me. I want to go order more chocolate, too. Matt is too tired to come, so he'll be here. Please don't get hurt. I want to be with you when I get back._

"_Stay in the building, as usual. I'm in pain watching you be here, but you must stay. Clean the room while I'm gone, will you? _

_From, Mello._

"How dare you not listen to what I said?!" Mello asked in disgust as he glared at me. Good god, he could be so damn scary when he wanted to be.

"One, you wrote it, stupid. Two, there is nothing that says anything about me staying in the room other than 'clean it' and nothing telling me someone's after me!" I yelled back, angry at the boy. I crossed my bruised arms, and stared back at Mello with a fire equal to his.

"First sentence, first word, second sentence, second word, the paragraphs were periods! How the hell could you not notice my message?!

"_**Someone **__needs to do work around here, and I guess that'll have to be me. I __**want **__to go order more chocolate, too. Matt is __**too**__ tired to come, so he'll be here. Please don't get __**hurt**__. I want to be with __**you**__ when I get back._

"_**Stay **__in the building, as usual. I'm __**in**__ pain watching you be here, but you must stay. Clean the __**room**__ while I'm gone, will you? _

_From, Mello." _He all but screamed at me, emphasis on the words containing his message. "It's choppy, but I was busy! " He said as he clutched his head and bit the pillow on the bed to keep from screaming in frustration. "Someone wants to hurt you, and they did!" He said as he bit harder, causing the pillow sheet to begin to rip slightly.

I stared into his now cold blue-teal eyes, and couldn't even bring myself to raise my voice. "How the hell do you think I would be able to find that." I whispered, more a statement than a question. I gave him one last hard look, and then spun on my heels and walked towards the door. I shouldn't have been surprised when a bullet passed my head, embedding itself in the door in front of me. I felt the heat coming off it as is barely grazed my earlobe, just missing my jaw. For some reason I can't explain, I was surprised though. I had never seen Mello shoot his gun. Even though I knew he used it on daily basis, I could never see him with it. I turned to look at him once more, and then left the room without saying a word.

--

Ten minutes later, I was lying on the bed in the room Matt stayed in. I had a cigarette in my mouth, and was using it just as Matt had showed me just days ago. It was calming, and I wasn't sure why. It didn't really matter.

Matt was lying next to me, seemingly analyzing my every movement. It was normally hard to know what Matt was doing, his goggles always being placed over his eyes. Today I had simply taken them off, asking his permission as I slowly pulled them over his head. It was a gruesome sight, under the goggles. Matt told me he had an accident when he was a kid, impaling his right eye. He was blind in it, he said, but he didn't bother to get it sewn shut or removed. He had screamed and cried until the doctors agreed to make his eye look normal, to some extent, and not deflated and punctured. He said it was one of many reminders of his past. Matt told me about scars he had all over his body, ones that still stung at memory. He even showed me his arm, pink lines puckering up all over it.

I couldn't think of him the same after that, I thought of him more carefully. Like an artist, trying to memorize every detail, from his looks to his personality, think of him from every point of view at once. I still saw the unmotivated, lazy, reckless guy I knew he was since I'd seen him, but I could see a new side of him. I could see the mental trauma, the reason behind his habits, the vulnerability. I had only known him for so long, but he was already my friend… Matt… he was so easy to talk to, and would listen to you and pay attention, even if it didn't seem like he was. I sighed. "Matt, why are you here with Mello and the rest of these macho guys?" I then asked as the cigarette I had been smoking hit the butt, turning my head toward the boy lying next to me.

"I… I'm not really sure. Ever since we were kids I've always been around for Mello… I guess I couldn't leave him." Matt laughed a little and began staring at the ceiling. "Back when we were really little, we knew each other. He lived two blocks away, and after a hard night, he'd always come over and hang out in my closet." He laughed a little more, "He would hide in my closet and tell me that it hurt, and that he hated his father, and he wished that God would answer his 'dam pways awlwedy'. I guess Mello hasn't told you about when we were little. I really shouldn't be telling you anything myself." He sighed, and looked at me again. "He'll let you know soon enough himself."

"He never lets me know anything. I feel like he's do indirect that he won't even tell me something important without making me go through a series of trials. And he's so violent, and he just… I don't get him. He tells me he's sorry and then gets mad at me… He… I don't even know…" I started to babble.

"Don't worry about him." Matt said quietly. "Mello is Mello and he can't make up his mind or do anything right so you gotta just leave him be."

I looked at Matt, his one deep night blue eye and one forest green one staring at the ceiling once more. I scooted closer to him and wrapped my arms around him. Sometime later, I fell into a deep sleep once more, in the same position.

---

_Author Babble time once more!~_

_BLAHIFUCKINGHATETHISCHAPTERCANIKILLITOHPLEASEOHPLEASEOHPLEASE?_ _I can't figure out what's happening and it's all so confusing and I just can't even barely think straight so just yeah. _

_I've been at camp and vacationing, sorry for lateness! I hope the length makes up for it!_

_I made some really important decisions while I was gone, and have the ending of this story written out now. I've always been good with endings. I can't talk about it [duh] but I hope you enjoy my choice. _

_Now to get to the ending…_

_Anyways, free brownies if you review!_


	7. A note to those who care

Heyaz my followers.

Oh. Right. I have none.

My inspiration to write has disappeared as of late, and so I am putting this story on hold until I am in a position to sort out what's going on and write in a clean manner. I'm sorry. Hopefully things will be better now that school is back in session and my schedule is normal.

As an update for those who care, I am almost done unpacking boxes at my new home, and my playing-of-Rufuz [my Bass Guitar] is going quite well. My classes are painfully easy, I never have weekend homework, I live close to friends, my wardrobe has added around 6 items of clothing to it, and life is somewhat decent. I have gotten my hair cut, and although it makes acne sprout up all over my forehead and between my eyes, I like it. My cat is being declawed tomorrow, although I do not approve of it. My mother decided on that and didn't tell me till we were sitting at dinner.

Anyways, I can't write/draw/anything creative lately. I'm beginning to feel better now that I've taken it easy for a while, and have been watching so much anime that I've had at least three dreams that a gun was pointed at me. In the beginning I said that I didn't know what that felt like, but now I know that fear. I am so glad it is not a part of my daily life….

For those who wonder what the hell I'm watching that makes me have bad dreams, it's a mix of the following:

Canaan [BEST SHIT SINCE DEATH NOTE. WAIT NO. THIS IS BETTER. Seriously amazing. I mean, chilling. Nightmares. Worse ones than the Higurashi ones. Ones with lots of bullets, bombs, and people trying to kill me at all costs. I swear I woke up crying.]

Soul Eater [just over halfway through]

Higurashi no Naku Koro ni [Scariest shit out there. Man, I was crying BEFORE they got creepy…]

Princess Tutu [less interesting once Mute goes evil near ep22 or summum and the eps only last 15 minutes.]

Pandora Hearts [wtf. Srsly. W.t.f.]

Saki [Although, I am not caught up. Haven't watched since ep17 ;_;]

Kuroshitsuji [finished the manga, need to watch anime. Unconfirmed reports of a second season have been spotted!!]

School Days [Well, it's next in line due to request]

Chobits [Gaaah I still haven't finished half of the last eisode T-T]

Tokyo Mew Mew [crazy animal-people fighting monsters and pedos working in a big pink teacup like thing? Oh yes.]

Wolf's Rain [Why is it so hard for me to watch now, although when I was seven years old I thought it was awesome?]

Hetalia [Oh god the ending theme kills me… NE NE PAPA WAIN KYODAI NE NE MAMA NE NE MAMA oh god it's stuck in my fucking head]

Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood [to some extent, at least. I'm watched a few eps and I'm waiting for the series to be done so I can finish it all at once]

Well, it's not my job to review animes for your entertainment, and episode 33 of Soul Eater is calling to me. I hope to be able to write again soon.

Love,

Sumi.


	8. EXCITING AUTHOR NOTE PLEASE READ

Hello and thank you to anyone and everyone who has read this incomplete piece of literary shit.

I have good news –this **will **be rewritten and reposted to a different account! Exciting, no? No guarantees as to when it will re-update, but it will be rewritten and I am recommitting myself to this story and fandom over the summer. I'm proud to say that both myself and my writing style have improved over time, and I hope you all agree.

I'll see you soon, under the penname _**Rosiliferociousity.**_

Much love,

Sumi.

xox


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